


stretch 'em like rubber bands

by sleepinnude



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e05 The First Time, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepinnude/pseuds/sleepinnude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If that night at the club had ended just a bit differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stretch 'em like rubber bands

It’s…  
There are…  
There is something that… Something that Blaine was supposed to keep track of. There was something that he was supposed to be watching. Or something. Everything has sort of melted into light and heat and… And, fuck, and this body pressed into him. This…body that is not Kurt’s. This body in front of his that is tall like Kurt and…and urgent like Kurt and bright like Kurt. Blaine trips on a breath and is straining up with wide eyes. This body that is so like Kurt’s is definitely not Kurt’s and he knows that because Kurt is matched behind him, hips riding low to catch under his ass and grind up and his hands are spanning over the Blaine’s hips and up his waist and marking low on his abdomen.

And so this person who is definitely not Kurt is a blur in front of him and… Fuck. Fuck, he can’t think straight because this not-Kurt in front of him is… is… is fucking up into his hips and there’s really no other word for it because that’s really what he’s doing, like… As if the only reason they weren’t fit together in the most complete sense was because of the clothes, tight and made clingy from sweat and atmosphere and fuck Kurt’s mouth latching at the notch of his neck.

The not-Kurt in front of him laughs and Blaine only knows that because he can feel the sound of it trembling through his trembling, counter-acting through his chest and the trial of his lungs. The not-Kurt laughs and ducks his head and his lips are skimming the shell of Blaine’s ear and Blaine’s lungs have a herculean task because how is he supposed to breath with these lights and this bass and these two boys and — a strangled moan of a gasp — and this hand working over his crotch, this not-Kurt’s hand, this… this Sebastian’s hand. Sebastian, with his tongue who asp-led them to this tree and pressed forbidden-sweet fruit into their palms, whose forked tongue is fucking talented as fuck as Blaine is learning.

Alcohol intake, that’s what Blaine was supposed to be watching. He realizes this because he realizes with a flash that he is drunk. That he is drunk and Kurt is drunk and not-Ku — Sebastian is drunk too. Blaine repeats it to the music and lights, drops his head back to speak into the underside of Kurt’s jaw ”I’m drunk,” he mouths and then just mouths wordless because Kurt’s skin is forbidden-sweet-delicious itself and Sebastian’s hand is still cupped against him and his entire body is winding up despite the alcohol looseness that had spread itself over his shoulders.

Kurt nudges and urges him this way and back so that they are kissing, slopping and noisy in a way that they never have before and Sebastian’s hand stutters and then speeds and then he’s stretched and his tongue is gone from Blaine’s ear and Kurt’s breathing hitches into his mouth.

There’s the low hum in his chest of Sebastian saying something but Blaine can’t hear it; he’s speaking to Kurt. Blaine whines and jerks up because that vibration is doing something deep inside him. He whines louder and more desperate when Sebastian pulls back and then Kurt’s laugh is breathing past his ear, hands on Blaine’s shoulders, steering him. “Hush, honey, we’re going,” he slurs, leaning heavily.

Blaine doesn’t want to leave, he likes these lights and these sounds and those hands and mouths and bodies. But with Kurt’s hands at his shoulders and Sebastian with a daring finger hooked dangerously into the waist of his pants tugging him along he doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

The stumble and bump and trip their way through the floor and past men kissing men and men touching men and Blaine has the shock of a half-second realization that he is one of those men. And that’s thrilling and then they’re in a barely-lit hallway and against a back-door and out. The sudden silence is unsettling and so is the sudden shock of cold. Blaine’s body prickles from the dip from bodymouthhips heat into frigid cold and Kurt and Sebastian are laughing and then Sebastian is stopping and Kurt is ramming forward and then they are kissing and Blaine is still pressed between them more or less and Kurt has a fist twisting into Sebastian’s hair and he pretty much has Sebastian-who-has-lived-in-Paris whining and begging for more with hands spasming and clenching on crisp late-fall air.

Blaine misses some pieces and every thing is kaleidoscopic in feet and hands and steadying and kissing and tongue and hands in hair and fingers over skin and at some point his tie is undone and Kurt’s shirt is unbuttoned and Sebastian’s hair is wrecked and there was a taxi at some point that Blaine less sure of more just aware of Sebastian overpaying for and then they are moving up the perfectly manicured lawn of some house and it must be Sebastian’s house. Because it’s not Kurt and Blaine isn’t sure he knows what his address is to have given it to the taxi driver.

There’s words of parents out from Sebastian’s lips before they’re on Kurt’s again and then Blaine’s again and fuck everything is still spinning and Sebastian tastes good he really, really does. He licks up into the kiss, straining toward Sebastian’s body and then there’s Kurt against his back, tonguing over his neck and they slam into each other and furniture and he thinks something breaks with a tinkle but Sebastian laughs it off with a don’t worry about it and then they’re upstairs and there’s a brief stop for Blaine against a wall.

Blaine’s head slinging back against the wall, moan free from his lips because Sebastian is along his side, working up against him, hands down his pants while Kurt is making thorough work of his mouth and biting over his lips and jesus. “Right here,” Blaine whimpers and Sebastian laughs and does a vicious twist with his wrist that had Blaine quivering in Kurt’s arms. Kurt sucks on his lip before ducking back and shushing him and pulling back to pull him along and Sebastian is saying “Last door on the right,” and they’re moving through the last door on the right.

And the door opens and Sebastian has him out of his shirt and Kurt is working on his pants and oh fuck.

His hands tremble forward as he undoes the rest of the buttons on Kurt’s shirt and pulls it back but that’s all he gets to before Sebastian is setting firm hands on his shoulders and helping him to his knees. He tilts his head back, resting against Sebastian’s thighs, keening at the sturdy grip of Sebastian’s fingers through his hair and against his scalp. His fingers work firm circles against Blaine’s head while Kurt’s tuck under Blaine’s chin, stroke at the underside of his jaw with a tenderness that Blaine thought had been lost to the night in one of the dark corners of the clubs.

But Kurt is humming soft words of delicate affection into the buzz of the unlit, unfamiliar room and Blaine can see the Sebastian’s shadow-arm reaching across to undo Kurt’s pants teasingly, fingers sliding in to trace and Kurt is panting and gasping and Blaine wants strikingly, can’t help it, and if Sebastian’s hand wasn’t at his head would be working his face into his boyfriends’s crotch, mouth sloppy.

Instead he reaches across too and yanks Kurt’s pants, dropping them. Sebastian doesn’t move, still stroking over the hard line of Kurt’s erection through his boxer-briefs and Blaine is whining with need and want and spreading his legs to roll a palm over himself.

Kurt’s tongue is sloppy and he spills to the night, “Yeah, baby? Ready?”

And Blaine can’t nod fast enough and then Sebastian’s hand is looser, giving him freer range and Kurt is closer and Blaine can taste, tongue running over the fabric. Kurt’s hips jerk at the first touch and one hand drops to Blaine’s head, stepping on Sebastian’s toes. Sebastian backs off quick enough. Blaine is nose-deep against Kurt but he can feel Sebastian fall to sit behind him, feels his hands stroking over Blaine’s arms and collarbone and jaw and chest and down, lower, down, into his boxer-briefs and Blaine gasps and his teeth graze and Kurt whines low and loud and long.

Fingers scrabble and Blaine’s underwear is as low as it can settle on his spread thighs, Sebastian’s hand working thick and steady over his cock and Kurt’s underwear is for the floor and Blaine’s tongue is wrapped over the head of his cock, noisy and unabashed in his greed. Kurt’s hand is ungentle in Blaine’s curls and Blaine is shocked in pinpoints of pleasure from every tug and is basically just riding the waves of his body back into Sebastian, forward against Sebastian’s hand, back against Kurt’s hand, forward into Kurt.

Blaine keens and Kurt moans and Blaine tongues up and over Kurt’s cock, taking as full as he can and Sebastian must be watched because an impressed wow drops into the hot niche of the nap of his neck. And then there’s a shift and an awkward angle and Sebastian is hard and against Blaine’s ass and working forward in desperate sort of frot that is sort of intoxicating and Blaine knows intoxicating because he is sucking Kurt’s cock and is beyond intoxicated before that.

Kurt’s moans go desperate, more desperate, and Sebastian is swearing into his hair and Kurt is gripping into it as well and then he’s pulling off and then he’s coming and hot and over Blaine’s face and breathing in moans and Sebastian has his face mashed to the back of Blaine’s head.

And then he’s not mashed against the back of Blaine’s head, he’s craning over Blaine’s shoulder and licking rough and hot and making noises like a baby nursing and Kurt’s breathing above them and that breathing is hitching and Blaine is seriously about to come over Sebastian’s hand.

Sebastian works sloppy, half tonguing into Blaine’s mouth, half lapping up Kurt’s come and all Blaine can do is hang there, settled back against him with mouth open, face painted and hips bucking up to the every-so-often slide of Sebastian’s palm when he remembers that he’s jerking Blaine off. 

And then he’s distracted because Kurt is on his knees and kissing Blaine and kissing Sebastian and moaning into his taste on Sebastian’s tongue and Sebastian takes initiative and does the awfulterriblewonderfulmean thing with his wrist and Blaine is coming so hard that he jerks like he’s been shocked. It paints up his stomach and over Sebastian’s hand and panting hard and falling forward.

Kurt breaks his kiss with Sebastian with an obscene sound and settles his arms around Blaine’s shoulders. Blaine has his forehead on Kurt’s collarbone, panting and shaking and his mind a blur of the night and every night that has ever happened ever and Sebastian is behind them and Kurt is kissing Blaine behind his ear.

When Blaine settles into his own body again, he grins up and kisses Kurt sweetly and Kurt grins back and then looks past him and smirks and says Sebastian and he is the Chesire cat and he’s crawling forward and tipping Sebastian on his back and working him out of his pants to the moans and whimpers of Sebastian-who-has-lived-in-Paris and Blaine turns and sets to work at Sebastian’s shirt. His eyes meets Kurt’s and their alight and fever bright and well, this certainly was a first, wasn’t it?


End file.
